Starting Over
by Sharptooth
Summary: Harry, depressed over the death of his wife years before, and suffering from horrific flashbacks, takes his son's advice and decides to do something about it. HP/HG


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling

**Starting Over**

**Chapter One: A New Beginning**

"Dad," the eleven year old boy said in a frustrated voice, "you need to get out of bed." He huffed at his father as the man sat there, his head and back propped up against the headboard of his rather empty king sized bed.

"James, I see no reason for me to have to get out of bed at this moment. I'm rather comfortable at the moment. Besides, what does it matter if I get out of bed now anyway?" He brushed an unruly shock of black hair out of his eyes.

"Auntie Hermione is going to be here any minute. Or are you going to let her climb in with you again?" the youth asked with a smirk.

"How did you…?" he asked, and then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. It doesn't matter whether you know or not. Nothing happened, she just slept here. We used to do that years ago, when we were both in a bad way while I was trying to rid the world of a very bad man. Sometimes it's comforting to have someone hold onto you when you sleep."

He sighed. "I'm just really missing your Mum today, Kiddo." He tried to hold back the tears that still threatened when he thought of his wife.

"Dad, it's been six years. You really need to let it go, even I know that. Jeesh…" The boy looked at his father critically. "She's good for you. Mum wouldn't want you to be alone anymore."

"Don't you lecture me…" He stopped as he realized that his temper was threatening. He and Ginny had agreed that they wouldn't raise their voice in anger to their children if they could at all help it. Her mother's temper was legendary, and she didn't want to become like her mother.

"I'm sorry James," he said, feeling even more miserable. "I know it's been a long time, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday.

_He sat by her bed at St. Mungo's, waiting for the end to come. It had been a long hard year since she had been diagnosed with Sorcerer's Palsy. It had eaten away her magical core, until there was nothing left, leaving her a squib. But no, that wasn't enough as it continued eating at her. All to soon she was bed ridden, unable to even support her own weight, meager as it was. The disease was akin to a Muggle cancer, and it ate her away to nothing._

_He held her hand and watched her chest rise and fall with her meager breathing. The gaps between breaths that signaled the start of the end had begun. It had all been because of a series of tortures that she had endured while he was away on his quest. It was very uncommon, but not unheard of. Prolonged exposure to certain curses could have that effect. _

_He swore then and there that he would track down those responsible for this. He wouldn't rest nor think of anything else until the Carrows had been treated to a huge dose of revenge. He looked down as he felt a great shudder go through his wife and her breathing abruptly stopped. He could feel the life drain out of her, and he knew that his life would never be the same._

He looked up to see his best friend standing next to the bed. She looked down at him and understood immediately what he had relived. She should, as it had happened enough times in her presence before. That was what best friends did though, they stood by their friends no matter what they were going through and she would be damned before she would let him down.

Kicking off her shoes she then shimmied out of her jeans and slipped into the bed beside him. Gathering him up in her arms she let him grieve once again. It had been six years to the day since Ginny had died, and each year it got harder to watch him deteriorate more.

"You have to let go, you know that, don't you?" she asked. "James needs you and you aren't going to be there for him. Then he'll end up like you, an orphan. Do you want that?"

"You know that I don't," came the weak reply.

"Then do something about it," she said, while she rubbed his back.

He sat up abruptly. "Hermione, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm thirty five years old. I have an eleven year old son, and I'm a widower. I quit my job years ago, and I've done absolutely nothing since. It's like I'm trapped in some sort of weird place where nothing I do seems to matter." He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Harry, I love you, so I'm going to tell you straight. You brought this funk you're in on yourself. You've let yourself go. You need to set yourself straight and do something. Please, if you care about James, if you care about me, get on with things."

He considered what she said. As usual, she was right. He slid out of bed, not caring that he was now standing in front of her while in his boxers. She had seen him in nothing but skin on occasion. This was nothing new to them.

"You're right. James is right too. He told me before you got here that I needed to move on. Smart kid, must have gotten that from his mother. Hermione, Ginny wouldn't want me to be miserable anymore."

"She wouldn't have wanted you to be miserable at all, but I think she would have understood why you were," she stated. "Why don't you owl Professor McGonagall and see if she still has that opening for the Defense position. I don't think she's filled it yet. Ever since Hestia told her that she was retiring from teaching to go back to the Ministry she's been trying to fill it."

"I think I will. It would be kind of nice to watch James get sorted," he replied.

He looked at her for a moment with an odd look on his face.

"Harry James Potter, what are you thinking?"

"What makes you think that I'm thinking anything?"

"You have that look in your eyes that you always used to get when you were plotting something," she replied.

"I was thinking that James was right about something else," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he said you were good for me. He wasn't wrong. You are good for me Hermione." He sighed and stretched for a moment as he worked up the courage to continue on. He had taken the coward's road long enough. Time to soldier on. Merlin knows that he had done it before.

"Marry me."

"Excuse me?" Hermione managed to choke out.

"You heard me," he said, looking her in the eyes.

"I thought you asked me to marry you," she said, the shock evident in her voice.

"You heard correctly. Hermione, you told me just a few minutes ago that you love me. I've known for a long time that I love you. I've loved you for years. I've loved you since we were kids. There were always other factors that kept us apart. Those factors aren't there anymore."

"Harry, are you serious?"

He stepped around to her side of the bed. "I'm dead serious Hermione," he stated as he grabbed her hand. "I want to start over, and I want to do it with you. I've loved you as a best friend. I've loved you as a sister. Now I want to love you as more. You're my confidant, my best friend, my whole world outside of James. Marry me."

"Harry, we haven't even kissed before…" He silenced her as he gently pressed his lips to hers.


End file.
